


Natasha Takes Charge

by Telaryn



Series: The Hero and The Bad Boy [26]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Leverage, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Crossover Pairings, Difficult Decisions, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Established Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Hospitalization, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 06:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The unspoken question is finally asked - "What does Clint Barton want?"  And in true Clint Barton fashion, he doesn't have an answer.  So in his hour of emotional need, he calls on the one person he trusts beyond all others not to hurt or pressure him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natasha Takes Charge

**Author's Note:**

> The penultimate chapter - but no decision yet! First we have to deal with the fallout on all fronts...then Clint will be in a position to choose.
> 
> Once again, thank you to everybody who's stayed on this journey with me. One more chapter after this one and everything will be settled (hopefully to most people's satisfaction).

Quinn tried to keep it together, tried to show the others in Avengers Tower that he wasn’t concerned, but deep into the second day after Clint had left with no word from SHIELD headquarters he had to admit, at least to himself, that he was starting to mentally divide up custody of the things in their apartment.

He didn’t want to do it. He wanted to be doing anything but trying to figure out how to go on without Clint, but even though he’d assured him that he still had a job Tony had insisted that Quinn take time off until his personal situation was sorted. And given that he’d recently committed the huge faux pas of kissing Stark and confessing a crush on one of the world’s richest, most powerful men, Quinn felt it prudent not to argue.

A soft knock on the apartment door intruded on his thoughts. Quinn thought for half a second about ignoring whoever it was and pretending he wasn’t home, but depending who it was he knew they would have few reservations about coming in anyway.

Luck was at least somewhat on his side this time. “Cap – what can I do for you?”

Rogers looked embarrassed. “I’m under orders to bring you downstairs. Tony’s ordered enough Chinese to feed half of New York, and Natasha says that you’ve spent more than enough time brooding up here.”

In spite of himself, the report got Quinn to smile. “I’m going to pretend I actually have a choice and say that I’d love to.”

“Hey JB!” Tony called as Quinn followed Steve into the common room of the Tower, “Hudson Hawk or The Sting?”

All eyes were on him. “Whichever one Tash voted for,” he said, hurrying to escape into the kitchen before somebody decided to throw something at him.

Cap hadn’t been exaggerating. A truly obscene number of white cardboard containers littered the table in the kitchen. Rogers was already loading a plate with an assortment of foods; Quinn grabbed a plate of his own and started looking over his options.

“Were you ever able to get through to Fury?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual as he scooped out a generous helping of pork fried rice for himself.

He didn’t risk looking up, even though Steve didn’t answer right away. “He confirmed that Clint arrived on base. Beyond that, apparently the status of one Phil Coulson is not currently an Avengers matter, and as such the director is not in a sharing mood.”

A bitter edge had crept into the Captain’s voice. Quinn didn’t blame him – Clint had told him that Coulson’s death had hit the whole team hard. In Cap’s case, he knew that the SHIELD Agent had been a lifetime fan of Captain America. Steve Rogers apparently had a very shaky relationship with his own status as a celebrity hero, but Coulson’s admiration had meant a great deal to him.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn said at last. “If I wasn’t in the picture, he’d probably be more willing to talk.” He looked up then, sensing Steve watching him.

“You haven’t done anything wrong here, Quinn,” Cap said, his tone serious. “No matter what you might have done in your past, this is your home until you and Clint decide otherwise.”

Quinn was literally stunned into speechlessness for a long moment. “Thanks, Captain,” he said finally, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “That…that means a lot.” Quinn’s former profession as a gun-for-hire had meant that Captain Rogers was the last of the Avengers to support his relationship with Clint. The fact that this hero could even stand to be in the same room with him, let alone say something so supportive made it hard to cling to the idea that he was still somebody who didn’t deserve everything he’d gained in his life over the past year.

“He does love you, you know that right?”

He knew the Captain was trying to make him feel better, trying to give him hope, but it had been too long without any word, and this was one area of their lives together where Quinn felt absolutely comfortable in saying, “I know. I also know that it’s not going to make that big a difference in the end.”  
***************  
Half an hour later, most of the team was on seconds and they’d all finally agreed on Hudson Hawk as the video of choice for the evening. “Wasn’t this a flop?” Steve asked as Quinn loaded the DVD into the player and collected the handful of remotes needed to work the entire entertainment system.

“I am _not_ sitting through the Sting again,” Natasha announced. She was curled up with Bruce on the small sofa that she and Clint had shared what seemed to Quinn like a lifetime ago.

Before Quinn could assure the Captain that Hudson Hawk really was better than its box office results would indicate, JARVIS interrupted the soft buzz of conversation. _”Agent Phil Coulson is approaching the floor, sir.”_

Everyone in the room who was not already standing came to their feet. Quinn immediately looked for Tony and the question that was already in his dark eyes. Heart pounding so hard he could barely breathe Quinn said simply, “I’m okay.” If this was it, if this was the end, he was going to meet it as calmly as he could.

Tony’s eyes narrowed, almost as if he didn’t believe Quinn’s answer, but out loud all he said was, “Let him in, JARVIS.” And then, in a moment that had to have been deliberately timed, he added, “Make time in my schedule tomorrow for us to go over anti-zombie intrusion measures.”

There was a split-second hesitation in Coulson’s step; he’d heard Stark’s tasteless joke and knew it was meant for him. “It’s good to see all of you.” Unlike the times Quinn had interacted directly with him, this time Coulson was wearing a plain black suit – perfectly tailored to fit his slender frame.

An awkward silence greeted him. No one seemed to know how to respond to his presence in their midst. After a long moment, Coulson’s gaze sought out Quinn. “Mr. Quinn. I owe you an apology for lying to you about my identity.”

Something very dark that typically stayed buried deep in Quinn’s soul roared to life. “You owe _me_ an apology? You psychotic bastard – you left him dangling for _months_ not knowing the truth! You have been a wound on his heart as long as I’ve known him and you could have stopped it at any time!” He lurched forward, and the room exploded into a whirlwind of activity. Steve reached him first, tackling him and wrestling him down onto his knees into a tight submission hold. At the edge of his vision Quinn saw Natasha shoving Bruce behind her. Coulson’s didn’t actually move, but his eyes shifted constantly, following the activity.

“He loves you so much,” Quinn said, feeling his heart breaking at the words. “How could you treat him like that?” _How could you just ignore a gift like that?_

The accusation struck – Quinn saw his rival flinch, saw a tiny crack in the iron-clad control. “I wasn’t using him. I was gathering information – trying to determine exactly what I was coming back to.”

“You were scared.”

All eyes in the room turned to Natasha. Quinn was fiercely glad to see a tiny flush of guilt on Coulson’s cheeks as he faced one of his other former assets. “I helped Barton break into your official file so he could see for himself what had happened. I’ve seen the catalogue of your injuries, and it was enough to convince both of us that Fury was telling the truth and you were dead.”

“I was in a coma for months.”

“And you woke up to a world where Barton had moved on from whatever it was the two of you could have had.” The Black Widow sighed. “I get it – I do. He fell in love with someone else and that was horrible – but worse than that, he left SHIELD. You couldn’t even get back what you _had_ , never mind what you hoped for.” Her fingers wrapped around the back of one of the chairs in front of her; even at the distance that separated them, Quinn could see the skin whiten across her knuckles. “Leaving all that behind us, tell me Phillip…what was your excuse for keeping the rest of us in the dark?”

The sound of a glass smashing shattered the silence that followed her question. “Sorry,” Tony muttered, staring dumbfounded at his shaking and suddenly bloody hand. “Sorry,” he repeated. Quinn felt Cap’s grip on him tighten briefly.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” he conceded, knowing that Rogers wanted desperately to go to Tony’s side. “I promise.” _Yet,_ he added silently.

He could feel the Captain’s relief as he loosened his hold. “Play me and I will knock you right out,” he warned, releasing Quinn at last and hurrying to Stark’s side.

“I need to talk to Barton,” Coulson said quietly. “Please. I have no excuses or explanations to offer the rest of you right now, but I bungled things badly last night and I really need a chance to make that okay.”

Quinn’s heart stopped beating for over a second. “He’s with you,” he said, stunned at what Coulson was implying. Trembling suddenly with cold and fear, he grabbed for the edge of the nearby sofa and slowly pulled himself to his feet. “He left here yesterday to see you.”

Their eyes met. “He left SHIELD HQ last night around 1900 hours last night,” Coulson said, the even tone of his voice belying the rising panic in his eyes. “I haven’t seen him since.”

All the images and ideas Quinn had been torturing himself with were suddenly off the table, only to be replaced by new and even more terrifying ones. _He didn’t stay. Why didn’t he stay?_ The obvious answer was that he had been on his way home to tell Quinn about his decision, but why was Coulson acting like their reunion had gone wrong?

The SHIELD agent had already shifted into action, discussing possible causes and courses of action with Steve and Tony. Quinn was about to pull himself together to participate, when his phone vibrated for his attention.

It was a text from Clint’s therapist: _I believe I have something that belongs to you._

Quinn felt his knees buckle with the force of the relief that washed through him. The fact that Clint had gone straight to see his therapist wasn’t necessarily _good_ , but it definitely beat the alternatives. Glancing around the room, Quinn saw that for whatever reason Natasha hadn’t joined the conversation heating up over what might have happened to Hawkeye. _Good._ She was the best solution he had at hand – the only one capable of balancing Clint out if he was in as heavy an emotional free-fall as Quinn suspected. Glancing at his phone as casually as possible, he forwarded the text to her.

She pulled out her phone a moment later, and even across the distance that separated them he could see her brow furrow. Bruce was behind her reading over her shoulder, then both of them looked up at Quinn together. _You need to be the one,_ he thought, willing her to understand what he was asking just by his expression. _Help him Tasha, please._

Her expression warmed as she looked at him and she nodded, letting him know without words that she understood and would do everything in her power to find Clint and keep him safe. Kissing Bruce lightly on the cheek, she slipped out of the room without anyone else being the wiser.

Once she was gone, Quinn joined Bruce. “Are you going to tell them?” he asked, nodding at the conversation taking place across the room.

Quinn studied the three men – Tony, Steve and Phil Coulson – for a long moment. There was a part of him that wanted to keep his secret, to get one up on his rival even if only for a few hours. _Talk about something guaranteed to come back and kick my ass,_ he thought, making his own decision with a small sigh of frustration. “I’m at least going to give Natasha a couple minutes head start,” he admitted. “I won’t let them mobilize the troops, but it can’t hurt to let them freak out a little bit longer, can it?”

 _I’m at least entitled to that._  
**********************  
Nat deliberately left her phone and her communicator behind. Quinn had been right to trust her to handle this, and the last thing she wanted was any of her teammates interfering before she could reach Clint and assess what was going on for herself. She _definitely_ didn’t want Coulson acting as though he had any right to be involved.

He’d at least had the decency not to be surprised at her anger. It was bad enough that his cowardice had left Clint grieving for so long and Quinn feeling as though he was battling a ghost, but it hadn’t seemed to have even occurred to Coulson that other people might have mourned his loss. She wasn’t the sort of person to cry at death, but Coulson’s absence had left a raw, bloody hole in her own heart as well.

 _He thinks he’s replaceable, and Clint’s the only one who’s ever shown him that he’s not._ Nat wondered briefly as she drove if Stark had managed to get all of the glass shards out of his flesh. There had been a lot of blood, and it would probably require some stitches. When they figured out how to forgive Coulson for his deception and when he figured out how to accept their forgiveness, they were going to have to do better about not taking him for granted. 

Dr. Marissa Margolis had her office on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Stark had offered to buy a building closer to Avengers Tower, and according to Clint the good doctor had told him exactly what he could do with his “generosity”. “I like her,” Clint had admitted during one of their late night gossip sessions. “She’s a straight talker and surprisingly good at calling me on my bullshit.”

Nat had been tempted to point out that Clint practically invited people to call him on his bullshit, but he really did seem comfortable with the arrangement, and if what she’d seen with her own eyes was any indication his recovery was proceeding very well. She’d been willing to help him navigate the challenges of his relationship with Quinn, which was more than his SHIELD appointed therapist had been willing to do once she learned the truth.

Reaching the building at last, she took the stairs at a run. At this time of day the building was practically deserted; Natasha only saw two people as she headed for the right floor – neither of them the ones she was searching for.

“Where is Quinn?” Dr. Margolis was at her desk as Natasha burst into her office, automatically scanning for Clint. He was sitting on the floor in a corner of the room, knees drawn up to his chest as he stared blankly off into space, physically protected on as many sides as he could manage. The thought struck her as she walked towards him that as a child he’d probably built forts for himself to close out the ugliness no one had ever taught him how to deal with.

“Are you Natasha?”

Natasha nodded, not sparing the doctor a glance. “Quinn asked me to come in his place.” Reaching Clint, she braced herself lightly against the bookshelf behind him; crouching slowly, until they were at eye level with each other. Her heart eased as he tracked her movements and she saw something flash in the gray-green depth of his eyes. “He figured you needed somebody you could feel safe with,” she continued, speaking directly to Clint now.

The archer’s expression crumbled almost immediately; Nat rolled smoothly down on her knees so that she could better brace him as he lurched forward into her arms. “I’ve got you,” she murmured, stroking his hair and holding him as securely as she could while he began to sob. “Let it out – you’re safe here. No one’s going to hurt you right now.”

She didn’t know who to be the most angry with as Clint’s devastation washed over and through her and she struggled to hold together what few pieces of him were still hers.  
****************  
Phil Coulson’s entire adult life had been built around the idea of control – who had it, who wanted it, and if the answer to either of those wasn’t him, what was the best way for him to go about changing those parameters?

He’d had a hard enough time with the idea that Clint was in therapy on something resembling a full time regular basis, even though the subject had been broached internally among SHIELD’s higher-ups more times than he cared to remember at this point. Mingled in with his relief at hearing from Quinn that Clint had not somehow fallen into enemy hands, therefore, was confusion and a smattering of betrayal at the idea that he’d run to his therapist in a time of extreme emotional crisis. It was so…not Barton.

“We need to wait on doing anything until we hear from Nat.” Coulson glanced up to see the Captain looking at him expectantly.

“Despite what it may look like,” he said as calmly as he could manage under the circumstances, “I don’t want to hurt him.”

He could feel the tension in Quinn’s body, and knew it was costing the ex-mercenary a great deal of self-control to keep from physically attacking him. Coulson almost wished that Quinn would make a move. He suspected they would both feel better after a good bout of trying to kill each other.

Instead, Quinn finally looked up – meeting his eyes. “I have to ask,” he said, “what exactly was your intention? You stalk us for months, you come on to me pretty strong, and then you pull that crap with the communicator…”

He wanted to hate Quinn so much, but Coulson couldn’t find fault with any of his questions. “Up until meeting you for dinner in London,” he said softly, “I hadn’t really decided what to do. I wanted to believe Fury’s assessment of you and the relationship. It would have been the perfect justification to swoop in, reveal myself and take Clint back.” He felt his cheeks growing warm and risked a glance at Captain Rogers. _As if this whole business isn’t humiliating enough…_

“I had to see for myself. And the more I learned, the more I understood that you were basically a decent man trying to be worthy of someone he really loved.” He dropped his own gaze then, studying his hands. “Then I found myself in a situation where I could talk to Clint directly, and you should have heard how passionately he argued for you and your relationship.”

Drawing a deep, shuddering breath, Coulson looked up again. “I would like to think that when I saw you in London, I’d decided to bow out of things. I would reveal myself, wish you both the best, and the three of us gone on about our lives.”

He saw understanding bloom in Quinn’s eyes. “This is why you mentioned screwing things up?”

Truly embarrassed now, Coulson nodded. “I didn’t take into account how either of us would react once we came face to face.” He thought about elaborating, going into more specific detail about what had taken place, but decided he would never survive the shame of discussing something like that in front of his hero. “I don’t want to lose him,” he managed at last. “I’m not saying he wouldn’t be happy with you, but I think if I had a chance he could be just as happy with me.”

He was startled to see defeat come over Quinn’s expression. “Probably happier,” the ex-mercenary admitted. “He’d have fewer nightmares.”

Before Coulson could react to that statement, Tony snorted derisively. “You two are such a piece of work.” He still had a washcloth pressed to the wound in his hand and had the hand properly elevated; Coulson suspected whatever he’d done was going to need stitches, but in true Stark fashion he wasn’t going to leave and take care of himself as long as there were things happening.

“You know what I see?” he added, once he had both their attention. “I see two men doing a lot of talking about what would be best for Clint Barton.” He exhaled sharply. “You know what I don’t see?”

He paused for a moment, and Coulson was relieved that neither Quinn nor Cap seemed to have the answer he was looking for either. “I don’t see anyone asking what Clint Barton wants.”  
*****************  
Not for the first time, Clint was grateful his doctor had prior experience with the likes of Tony Stark. He didn’t want to have to explain why Quinn sending Natasha to find him had been the perfect move, or why he and Nat were currently so intertwined with each other it was hard for the casual observer to determine where one stopped and the other began.

Instead she’d listened as he laid out the impossible scenario in front of them and admitted that he had no idea what he was supposed to do. “I love them both, so that’s no help,” he said, carding his fingers through Natasha’s hair. “If I’d known Coulson was alive from the beginning, Quinn would never have been an issue.” He thought over the timeline Tony had given them and realized something. “If he’d contacted me as soon as he came out of the coma, I probably still would have chosen him.”

“So why don’t you tell him that?”

It was the question Clint had been torturing himself with ever since he’d left SHIELD the night before. In theory it was all so simple – Coulson himself had even admitted that the right thing to do was for him to bow out, leave Clint and Quinn to their future and all of them hope they could be friends someday.

And yet… _”I would make you happy, Clint.”_ When he’d been waiting nearly a decade to hear something like that from someone like Coulson, the emotional waters became considerably more muddy.

“You realize it’s insane for anyone to expect to make a decision like that in less than a day.” Marissa had leaned back in her chair, and was looking at him over the top of her glasses. “It sounds to me like you haven’t taken the time to process Coulson being alive, much less whether you still want a future with him.”

She wasn’t wrong. “I’m already having panic attacks just thinking of them waiting for me to make a decision,” he said. “And if Fury assigns Coulson to work with the team again, I won’t have any space to breathe, much less figure out what I want to do.”

Marissa pursed her lips, her expression thoughtful. “How likely is that?”

Clint almost laughed out loud when Natasha beat him to the punch by saying, “Very.”

Silence fell across the room, broken only by the rhythmic tapping of Marissa’s pen against her desk. “You know we’ve discussed hospitalization before,” she said finally, with a wary glance at Natasha.

His partner tensed; Clint continued stroking her hair, letting her know without words that he was all right with the turn the discussion was taking. “Seems a little extreme, under the circumstances.” Unlike the other times they’d discussed him committing himself however, Clint realized he was strangely at peace with the idea.

“You need counseling,” Marissa argued. “Regular sessions to help you sort out this mess – more intensive than I can give you here.”

 _And space from both of them,_ he thought, his brain helpfully supplying the rest of it. Turning away from his doctor, he looked at Natasha. “What do you think?”

She blew out a quiet breath, considering all the implications. He knew she would want to have as little to do with doctors and hospitals as possible, but he trusted her above all others to have his back and act in what she believed to be his best interest. “I think getting you away from both of them for a while isn’t the worst idea in the world,” she admitted finally. “Whether that involves checking you into a hospital or not has to be your call.”  
*********************  
Following a lengthy discussion, it was ultimately agreed that Coulson should wait at the Tower until Nat reported in. Quinn wasn’t completely happy with the decision, but he was self-aware enough to understand that nothing was going to make him completely happy until he could see Clint for himself and confirm that the archer was going to be okay.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

Quinn turned from retrieving one of his beers out of the kitchen refrigerator to see that Coulson had followed him in from the common room. Discarding half a dozen more satisfying responses he shrugged, twisting the cap off the bottle and lobbing it easily into the trash. “Go ahead.”

“Why did you send Natasha after Clint instead of going yourself?” The SHIELD agent looked genuinely confused. “The doctor didn’t call – she texted. You could have slipped out without any of us being the wiser and reassured yourself Clint was all right.”

“Not to mention the advantage it might have given me, right?” Quinn added. Now it was Coulson’s turn to shrug. Sighing, Quinn took a swig of his beer, trying to organize his thoughts so they had a chance of making sense outside his own head. “Clint’s driving force in his life is a need to feel safe. That’s part of the reason why he nests – he needs to be apart from the world and from people until he knows exactly what to expect.”

It could have been his imagination at work, but Quinn thought for a second that Coulson might have looked impressed with his reasoning. “Go on.”

“Him going to Marissa instead of staying with you, coming here or calling Tasha told me that he was in a bad state – bad enough that he couldn’t trust himself.” He felt his chest tighten painfully – rarely had his own hyper-developed sense of self-awareness hurt this badly. “I also figured, given the context, that I was part of the problem.” He nodded at his rival. “Same as you. Add it all together, and the only person who has a chance of calming him down and making him feel safe is Natasha.”

Coulson was quiet for a long moment, considering Quinn’s reasoning. “You’ve spent a lot of time studying him to be that aware in such a short period.”

Ducking his head, Quinn couldn’t help smiling at that. “He’s amazing. Everything about him fascinates me – I want to learn it all and understand it all so I can give him the life he deserves.” He chuckled ruefully. “And yes, I am aware how much that makes me sound like a twelve year old girl with her first crush.”

He was relieved when he looked again to see that Coulson wasn’t laughing along with the joke. “You’re trying to make sure you don’t hurt him like you did in the Sudan,” the SHIELD agent said. “Trying to prove you’re not that man anymore.”

“I don’t know if I am or not,” Quinn admitted. “All I know is that as long as he wants me, Clint deserves the best of me that I can give.”  
*********************  
It was nearly midnight by the time Natasha returned to the Tower. Getting Clint settled had been time consuming and emotionally exhausting; it had taken far more control than it should have for her to remain calm and supportive as Clint signed himself into the hospital Dr. Margolis had recommended.

“You know they’ve been pushing this since Loki,” he said, brushing a stray lock of hair back off her face. “It won’t be long.” His tone remained light, but she could see the fear in his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

She caught his hand in hers and pressed a kiss to his palm. “Since the commitment is voluntary they can’t keep you if you change your mind. If you need to leave, you call me.”

Clearly overwhelmed, he pulled her into a tight embrace. “Thanks, Nat. I love you.”

“Love you too, Barton,” she whispered, burying her face in his shoulder. Love may have been for children, but Clint was her partner. If anyone deserved to have that level of devotion answered in kind from her, it was him.

Given the choice she would have retreated to her rooms and let the whole lot of them wonder what had happened. Unfortunately, if she had any prayer of giving Clint the time and space he needed to sort things out, information was going to have to be imparted, boundaries established, and ground rules understood.

“Space and time,” she said, leveling a glare at each of the men in the room. “That’s what he’s asking for by doing this, and that’s what I’m going to make sure he has.” She focused on Coulson, who had taken a seat directly across the table from her. “He needs to process you being alive before he can figure out who he wants to go forward with.”

“He didn’t have to be committed,” Quinn interjected, drawing her eye. “This is his home. I would have cleared out so he had whatever space he needed.”

Natasha exhaled softly; painfully aware that she was likely overstepping her bounds. “He feels it’s your home too, Jonah, and he doesn’t want to put you out of it. I’m the one who’s going to ask you to consider relocating until he’s had a chance to make his decision.” She glanced at Tony, who had finally gotten his hand properly seen to. “I’m sure you have a corporate apartment somewhere nearby?”

Stark looked uncharacteristically serious. “That’s up to Quinn. Whatever he needs, he’ll have.”

It was the best she was going to get. “Finally,” Natasha said, leaning back in her chair, so that it was clear she was addressing the entire room, “I know it’s going to be tempting to seek him out yourselves so you can verify for yourselves that he’s okay, but if I catch wind of any of you going to the hospital without Clint’s express invitation, you will answer to me.”


End file.
